


Classically

by Bitsybonbon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Paso Doble, Rumba, Tango
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitsybonbon/pseuds/Bitsybonbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A painting says a thousand words, a thousand words makes a good love letter, but a dance says it all--a dance is not strong unless its dancers are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fiercely

**Author's Note:**

> This was completely inspired by my taking ballroom dancing lessons and not being able to remember certain aspects of the dance and needing to write it down. I'm not proud but the way I remembered to keep my hips forward in the Paso Doble was by thinking of Tavros being scolded for not doing it.  
> I wasn't going to go through with this idea but Ghosty liked the idea and I suppose I do too!  
> Oh, and the Paso Doble (Two Step) is my favorite dance. It's the bullfighter's dance, also known as the man's dance because it's so strong! I tried to describe the terms but I apologize if it's a little confusing.

With no explanations how nor any witnesses, Tavros Nitram got roped in Vriska Serket’s web and into a dance with her.  
The Paso Doble, no less—the bullfighter’s dance.  
Cut the bullshit puns.  
Damn it.

Thankfully Vriska’s voice drowned out any nervous sounds Tavros uttered (mechanic legs creaking, breath shuddery, heart pumping) so she wasn’t _completely_ aware that he was terrified of her. Of dancing. Of most everything.

With each movement she made he flinched and dodged her. They’d not even gotten started yet, and she had to fix that.  
They were in closed position, of course, arms out so wide their chests nearly touched. It was interesting that though Vriska was no taller than Tavros she loomed over him. She noticed, too, and bore her teeth in a smile. He swallowed the last remaining bit of hope for his survival.

“Even you must know the basics, right?” No matter what she said there were always undertones of cockiness in her wording, with a hint of a smirk on her lips.  
Tavros fortunately did and could actually appel (a sharp stomp of the foot; right for the man, left for the lady) nicely enough but it was obvious that Vriska was leading.  
Not six seconds in and she halted so suddenly Tavros would have toppled over had she not seized him by the wrist. “What is this?!” She gave a shake to the flimsy arm. “This is the _man’s_ dance, you know, and the strongest—stop looking like I’m out for your blood and get angry!”

Not the easiest task, especially when she kind of is after your blood. But Tavros could get angry.

Eyebrows lowered and lips pursed he went for another appel.

He got a swat on the shoulder and then on the side. “Now you look stupid. And keep your hips forward!!!!!!!!”  
Clenched his jaw and his lips made a fine line, one brow raised.

He got a slap on the chin. “I don’t know where you’re looking or what you’re doing!”

Maybe he was approaching this scene incorrectly. He read lots of fantasy; what did the villains do? Tavros sunk a fang into his lower lip and avoided eye contact. Vriska punched him in the arm. “You look so duuuuuuuumb! What are you even doing?! You’re not angry but I sure am!” As the final straw she flicked his temple and with a syrupy voice that pierced his ears, “Grab the _bull_ by the _horns_ , Tav!”

Oh, she went there.

Fine. Tavros wasn’t a master of the Paso Doble—but Rufio. Rufio was.

Rufio, and finally Tavros, was fuming. They’d both had quite enough.  
A sharp appel shook the flooring and Tavros/Rufio forced a wide-eyed Vriska backwards. She’d only a second to regain her balance and raise the arm not in his grip. He guided her slowly, firmly, in a circle around him and as she stepped quietly (one must never step quietly in the Paso), taking in the scene playing out.  
His jaw was set with no intentions of moving though it was obvious it’d open to bark, and his eyes. His eyes never looked down upon anyone and now they gave the most condescending glares.  
He seemed to loom over her.

Vriska minded his horns as she moved back into closed position and for the first time she was self-conscious over her form. Were her shoulders thrown back too much? No, that wasn’t it, her steps were too small. Perhaps her arms weren’t steady enough. She stiffened.  
They stayed in a Sur Place (a series of strong steps on the ball of the foot, in place) which evidently gave Tavros a good look at her expression.  
“You should, uh, be a little more passionate.”

She nearly took out his eye with how quickly she snapped her head up. It was the first thing he’d said to her all day, and more importantly he was instructing her with something she’d told him! Well, not exactly. A faint blue made colored her cheeks but she would never admit why. She probably wasn’t too sure why herself.  
She gave more resistance now, chest higher and hips leading. Tavros pulled her into twists and promenade positions and Vriska responded beautifully. The tension was so wonderfully thick that neither of them realized there wasn’t any music playing at all.

A final appel and Vriska’s smile had returned. She seemed satisfied and Tavros breathed a sigh of relief through his nose, then cleared his throat. “That wasn’t, uh, half-bad.”  
Her smirk reappeared as well. “Bullshit. That was great.”

Tavros smiled a crooked little smile. " _Ole._ "  
He meant " _Adios_."


	2. Dramatically

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumba--the ladies' dance, danced by ladies.

Out of all the things that had been lying around in Rose’s room, the one thing Kanaya set her almond eyes on was a rumba instruction booklet.  
It wasn’t the worst thing, definitely. But what are the chances that a lady who is attracted to ladies is attracted to the dance of the ladies?

Rose had said, A book on dancing is as useful as a…well, a dance on reading, really. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. Kanaya had asked to keep the booklet and she let her have it, as she wasn’t even really sure why she’d owned it in the first place.

Yes, it was a romantic dance, though it hadn’t been regarded very highly in Rose’s eyes. It relied too much on the constant swaying of the hips to look natural, and even with a partner it looked too practiced (Rose did not have a partner but it’s not as if that lowered her impression of the dance. Not really.)

On the other hand, when it was pretty it was _very_ pretty. It was fluid, not stocky, as the books said it should be. When it was performed well it was a physical poetry.  
Kanaya had told her this, gushed a little bit about it even. She eventually asked Rose if she’d like to dance a rumba, to which Rose asked, With whom?  
With Kanaya, of course, if that was okay and if she’d like to.  
Rose had hesitated, but did not say no in the end. She accepted graciously—after a bit.

She’d never danced with Kanaya before.  
But Kanaya loved the dance so she probably led excellently.  
Then again she’d never danced with anyone before. She didn’t know how good a follower she was.  
Then again, a dance with Kanaya.

But after the first few steps she hoped Kanaya wouldn’t realize how often she stepped with her heel rather than the toe, and that she dropped her chest too low, and, well, maybe she wouldn’t notice that Rose wasn’t as graceful as her name might have implied.

Kanaya had a few inches over her, or it felt that way what with her air of confidence and elegant aura.  
Coincidentally it seemed that the rumba had been crafted for Kanaya Maryam alone.  
Her blouse hung on her just so, her black bob bounced with each precise step, her skirts and sash swirled about her so perfectly.

Rose wasn’t envious exactly, but she looked at her with an admiration of sorts. In fewer words, she was smitten.

Kanaya had been for a while—smitten, that is—and practiced the rumba diligently to prove it. She’d thought the rumba suited the two of them well; elegant, memorable, sultry. Rose was dancing earnestly if not a little bumbling, and if nothing else she was showing her true, hidden colors.

It was precious. Rose was focused on her own movements and Kanaya was thankful she couldn’t see the jade flush crawling up her neck. She did so like clumsy Rose, even, or especially, if Rose did not.

She brought a manicured hand up Rose’s side to cup her cheek, and smiled. Her hand continued upwards to fluff her hair and push back wayward strands, and then laughed when Rose opened her mouth to say something, anything, but didn’t, couldn’t, quite. Her earrings just tinkled as she trembled instead, so Kanaya filled in.

“Your steps are very honest, even if you are not.”

She spoke pointedly, but not unkindly. Her words were always very pronounced, always had meaning behind them. Rose said nothing and colored like her name, but smiled.  
Kanaya smiled wider, lightly and comfortingly squeezed her hand and gave her a peck on the nose. She felt she deserved it, and guided her along when she made an equally comforting cup of tea to calm her down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so dumb I can't write Kanaya nor Rose and here I am writing them both. I don't even like the rumba.  
> But they are my favorite ship I should at least honor them.
> 
> I will be completely honest and say I've been writing this for over two weeks and just finished it not five minutes ago, I really want to be done with it, it's not good, and I just finished it up so I could write about beautiful boys again. I am sorry. 'ㅅ'
> 
> How many times do you think I will use a sentence saying Rose blushes like her name? I'm going with fourteen.


End file.
